**Diary Entry**
Ive had enough. My mother-in-law, Margaret, just stormed into my study while I was knee-deep in work, barely keeping my eyes open after hours of designing the new autumn collection. The moment she walked in, I knew it wouldnt be good.
*”Make up the spare bed in the shed for your grandfather! I wont have him embarrassing me in front of my friends!”*
Her words hit me like a slap. I blinked, forcing a polite smile. *”Of course, I remember your friends are visiting. Theyre arriving tomorrow, arent they?”*
*”Actually, today,”* she snapped, lifting her chin. *”Honestly, Emily, do you ever pay attention?”*
Guilt pricked at meI *had* lost track of the days. *”Do you need help with anything? Cooking? Cleaning?”*
*”Ive done it all myself, not that youd notice.”* She sniffed. *”But thats not why Im here. Your grandfatherhe can stay in the shed for a few days. Theres an outdoor loo, and you can take his meals out to him. Well just tell my friends hes the gardener. I wont have him making a scene in front of them.”*
Her tone left no room for argument. My blood boiled. *”Margaret, what exactly is so embarrassing about him? Hes a kind man!”*
She glared. *”Hes clumsy. Spills his tea, coughs at the tableits revolting.”*
*”He has a condition! You know that!”* My cheeks burned.
She huffed. *”Raise your voice at me again, and youll regret it. After all Ive done for yougiving you my son, this houseand this is the thanks I get?”*
Before I could reply, she stormed out, slamming the doorher signature exit.
I checked on Grandad, who was sanding a wooden jewellery box by dim lamplight. *”Youll ruin your eyes,”* I scolded.
*”Just finishing this bit,”* he chuckled. *”Then Ill nap. Long day.”*
I kissed his forehead, my heart aching. Hed raised me after my parents died, sacrificed everythingeven taking extra carpentry jobs to buy me my first laptop. And now Margaret wanted to hide him away like a dirty secret.
When James came home for lunch, Margaret intercepted him, demanding he leave work early to fetch her friends from Heathrow. He refusedhis project was behind schedule. She sulked off, and I finally told him what shed said about Grandad.
*”Youre right,”* James sighed, rubbing his temples. *”Ill talk to her. Shes gone too far this time.”*
But with no time to argue, I ended up driving Margaret to the airport. The tension in the car was suffocating.
At arrivals, her friendsposh, entitledloaded me with their luggage while Margaret strolled ahead, chatting loudly. Back home, I overheard her boasting to them: *”This is all my sons doing. Such a success! And Emily? Useless. Always glued to her computer while I run the house!”*
Her friend tittered. *”And that old man we saw?”*
*”Oh, just some homeless chap James took in. The gardener.”*
Something in me snapped. I called James, whispering through tears: *”I wont tolerate this. She *lied* about Grandadin *his* own house!”*
James arrived, furious. At dinner, he helped Grandadthe rightful owner of the houseto his room, announcing loudly: *”Were honoured to live in *your* home, sir.”*
Margaret turned puce.
I stood, smiling sweetly at her guests. *”Now, lets get you settled in the shed.”*
*”The *shed*?!”* Margaret shrieked.
*”No spare rooms, Im afraid.”* James shrugged. *”Mum suggested the shed was good enough for Grandadsurely its fine for your friends?”*
Her guests fled, calling a taxi. Margaret screeched about humiliation, but James was firm: *”You brought this on yourself. Maybe its time you went back to your flat.”*
She left in a huff, chin highbut the victory felt hollow. Still, for the first time, James had chosen us over her. And Grandad? He just patted my hand, smiling. *”Always knew you had spine, love.”*
